Nowadays
by Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Show
Summary: But if there's one thing he knows, it's that Olivia Dunham doesn't need saving.


**This doesn't have any real time frame, but it's generally set sometime in the near future. And it's based off of the promo for Os, but there are no real spoilers.**

**I'm so ridiculously excited for tomorrow night! It looks awesome. And I hope we get some good P/O scenes.**

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She had brushed him off earlier with a 'We'll talk about it later' and a nudge on the arm. In all honesty there really wasn't time to talk about it then; Broyles called seconds later with a new lead and Olivia hurried off, telling him to go back to the lab and help Walter out.

He had wanted to go with her, maybe they could have discussed it in the car, but he didn't want to upset her further. He knew his admission had caught her off guard, to say the least. Of course it had. He would be worried if it hadn't surprised her, after all he had just told her he was a killer.

No, not a killer. He was doing only what Olivia would have done, only faster and maybe a little less mercifully. Maybe Olivia wouldn't have shot them straight away. It would have been a last resort to put a bullet through their forehead.

She would have _needed_ to do it though, he reminded himself. These things, these _machines_, were soldiers. They wouldn't have let themselves get captured alive. They would have tried to take her out too. He was simply eliminating them before that could happen. He was saving her.

But if there's one thing he knows, it's that Olivia Dunham doesn't need saving.

He needs to talk to her, he knows that much. He's known her long enough to know that this is just the kind of thing that could tear them apart again. And he's not going to let that happen, not after all the progress they just made.

Not after he truly had the chance to be with her.

He had been right earlier, it _was_ beautiful. She was beautiful. And waking up with her, having breakfast with her and just talking- that had been beautiful too. It was what he had dreamed of for so long. Now that he finally had it, now that he finally had _her_, he sure as hell wasn't going to let this get in the way. That's why he told her the truth. She deserved to know. There shouldn't be any more secrets; he had told her about what he had done with her double and he knew that now, if they were going to be together, he would have to tell her about the shapeshifters too.

There's a loud clanging noise downstairs and he hears something splash up on to the ceiling. He groans softly, knowing this means Walter is experimenting with food again. And that's never good.

He treks down the stairs softly, hoping to get a glimpse of the damages before Walter launches into a speech about how this was absolutely necessary in order for his experiment to work and the scientific community just could _not_ go another day without know the exact ingredients needed to make the perfect root beer float.

Walter is dumping half a carton of ice cream into the blender, softly humming a song from yet another record Peter didn't even know they had to himself. He looks up and grins widely as the remaining ice cream plops into the already full blender.

"Peter! Would you like to try some? I'm afraid you can only taste my failed versions, I have yet to perfect my recipe..." He takes a sip from a glass and then holds it out, oblivious to the bits of vanilla ice cream dripping from the ceiling onto the counter.

"I'm good, thanks." Peter grabs the roll of paper towels from the cabinet and hands it to Walter. "I want you to have this cleaned up by the time I'm back, okay?"

"Oh, where are you going?" Walter sticks his finger into the blender and pulls it out, pausing to smell it before sticking it in his mouth.

Peter grimaces and looks away, glancing up at the clock above the fridge. "I think I'm gonna go talk to Olivia."

"Oh!" Walters grin widens, and he slams the top back on the blender and presses another button as it whirls the liquids together. "That's good."

Relieved that he didn't say anything inappropriate about it, Peter gives his father a small smile. "Yeah, I hope so." He turns away and goes to grab his jacket from the coat rack. He's just about to open the door when Walter calls out to him.

"Peter! You know it's supposed to rain quite a lot later. I wouldn't want you to have any trouble driving. You might want to spend the night at Agent Dunhams place, just so you're safe."

Peter shakes his head and closes the door without an answer.

Olivia has been home for over two hours, but she still hasn't taken off her jacket. She feels cold, colder than usual, and she can't seem to get any warmer. She's felt like this all day, ever since Peter talked to her earlier that day. Since he told her he was the one who had been killing the shapeshifters. 'Full disclosure', he had said. Just another way to bring up all of the times he has lied to her, she scoffs.

Then again he hadn't really lied to her, she supposes. It wasn't like she had asked him straight up if he had been the one murdering them.

But they had been working the investigation together, and he _knew_ how important it was that she find out who this was. She had to make sure their division was secure, make sure there wasn't anyone leaking information to Walternates people.

He must have cracked the other Olivia's code by himself. She doesn't really know how, and she doesn't really care but he had to have figured it out before she did. That's why he didn't want her reading _her_ files. He already knew what it had to say about him, that hardly mattered. He didn't want her to find out about what he was doing. He didn't want to her stop him.

She presses her head against the glass in her hand. It's cold too, almost as cold as she feels. She closes her eyes and tries to clear her mind of all things Peter.

Then someone bangs on the door and her eyes shoot open. She stands up, grabbing for her gun as the knock sounds again.

"Olivia?"

Speak of the devil.

She places the gun on her coffee table and goes to open the door. She should talk to him, she muses. Maybe there's someway he can begin to explain this.

The door squeaks loudly as she pulls it open, and she makes a mental note to see if she can fix that. He smiles when he sees her, and it takes all of her power not to smile back.

"What's up?" She asks softly, her voice cracking. Her throat is dry from doing nothing but swallowing alcohol for two hours.

"Can I come in?" He's still smiling, but it's not the wise ass grin she's seen on his face so many times before. It's something softer, something way more genuine.

She nods, stepping back and shutting the door after him. He's silent for a moment, glancing around her apartment. He spots the bottle on the table and almost grins.

"Can I have some?"

She presses her lips together, shrugging gently. "Help yourself."

He gets a glass from her kitchen (and it's the first time she realizes that he knows where they are), and comes to sit next to her on the couch.

She slumps back down, picking her glass up off the table. "So what's up?" She asks again.

He pauses, staring at the buttons on her coat. "I just thought we should talk. About what I told you earlier."

"You mean about you going behind my back to kill people?" She avoids his eyes, choosing instead to stare at the picture on the wall behind him.

_'They're not people'_ he wants to tell her, but he knows that that is not going to help his case. Instead he brings his eyes to her face, scooting closer to her.

"Yeah. You deserved to know." He pauses, torn between diving into what he wants to tell her and just leaving it at that.

Her eyes slowly slide to his and he realizes that's hardly enough of an explanation.

"Look Olivia, before I met you and got involved in this whole... thing, I was alone. A lot. And I just had myself to depend on. Nobody else was really looking out for me. Nobody else cared about me." He tries to cross his arms, but then undoes them and rests one on the back of the couch. "And I did some... Not so nice stuff. I wasn't a very good guy."

He sees a hint of a smile cross her face. "Yeah, well I could have guessed as much."

There's almost a bitterness in her voice, and Peter thinks that maybe she is more upset about this than he thought.

"I had to do, what I had to do. To take care of myself. Because no one else was going to." He continues, his hand sliding closer to hers. "When I saw that machine, when I thought about what it was capable of... I knew I needed to do something, anything, to stop what was going to happen. And if that involved killing the enemy, I was okay with that. It was the only way."

"The only way?" She cuts in, and this time it's her who leans closer. "There were so many other ways."

"I realize that now. But you have to understand, Olivia. I wasn't thinking straight. I wasn't thinking like the man I've become over the past two years, I was thinking like the guy I used to be. I was thinking like the con man I was for so long. And you..." He dropped his gaze back to her buttons. "I know I should have told you. You don't deserve me lying to you. But we were so... Complicated then. I was trying to put back together what little relationship I had left with you, and handle Walter and deal with knowing what _she_ did to me at the same time. I needed answers. I needed to know why _me_, why am I such a big part of this. And I could only think of one way to find out."

"Peter..." She whispers it, placing her hand over his. "I could have helped you."

He smiles a bit. "I don't think I was exactly thinking straight. And maybe Walter was right, maybe the machine did something to me. Maybe it did change me. But what I did, Olivia you have to believe me that's who I used to be. And I promise I'm not going to be like that again."

She nods, intertwining their fingers. "I know."

He leans forward and presses a kiss against her forehead, testing the waters. He pulls back to find her smiling at him.

"Thank you for telling me."

"Well, I figured it would be better if you heard it now from me as opposed to later from Broyles after he had me arrested."

She shakes her head, laying it softly against his shoulder. "I wouldn't let him arrest you."

"That's comforting."

"I'd probably do it myself."

He lets out a laugh. "That's a little less comforting."


End file.
